


Elements

by Cliophilyra



Series: 30 day OTP Challenge (Done in much more than 30 days) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Historical, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does a ring come to be? What does it mean to those who come in to contact with it? This is the journey of one ring...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elements

There is a small black box in his hands. His palms stick to the leather as he turns it over and over. He is nervous. He is not used to being nervous. He notes with curiosity the fluttering of his stomach, the sweat on his hands and the catch in his breath. He opens the box slowly and tilts his head as he takes stock of what is inside.

Gold.

The ring glows despite the low light of their room. It is solid, a plain design but one that brings to mind things like weight and strength and permanence. All things he has come to associate with his partner.

He runs his fingers lightly over the warm curve, smiling as he remembers the flood of memories and emotions that rushed over him when he first touched the gold in the jewellers shop. It is astonishing to think this small amount of yellow metal has been in this universe almost as long as he has.

 

ooooooooo

 

This gold, like all gold, was created in the crucible of a supernova billions of years ago. It crashed and boiled and burst outward with a myriad other elements, seeding the galaxy.

Much later it became part of a huge, misshapen lump of rock, crystal and metal hurtling through space, closer and closer to a small, greenish blue planet. It crashed with almost unimaginable force into the green hills of a country that didn’t have a name yet on a planet that didn’t have a name yet.

The gold is scattered and embedded into the still forming mantle of the small planet.

Unimaginable time passes and the gold is buried, pushed and twisted. Some of it is forced to the surface again and washes along with water from springs that form streams and rivers. It runs all through the landscape of the place that will, many many years from now, be called Yerba Buena and eventually San Francisco.

 

ooooooooo

 

In 1848 the gold is suddenly noticed. This spill from a cascade of meteors that has been waiting millions of years to be found is suddenly the biggest news on this and several other continents. Soon there are adventurous, avaricious men swarming over the dry scrubby hills where the gold has lain undisturbed for so long and it is gathered up in calloused, dirty hands and taken away.

Two of these hands belong to a young man called Carver who followed the gold the first moment he heard of it, in hopes of making enough to make a life for himself and the woman he is in love with. He is not avaricious, he does not risk his success by staying too long or chasing too much. His sense of adventure is quiet. He is romantic but not reckless.

He is fascinated by many things, his mind is restless and he wants to explore. It is his dream to find enough gold to allow him the time to pursue these fascinations. 

As soon as he has filled his saddle bags with gold, which in these first days of the rush is by no means impossible, he takes the next ship headed back east.

The voyage home is gruelling but seems to take less time that it had when going the other way, as is often the way. Now at least he is not going into the unknown but returning to a life he knows, with, God willing, a brighter future before him.

When he arrives back in New York he chooses the finest piece of gold from his spoils and takes it to a jeweller where he buys the best diamond he can afford and has it made into an engagement ring for Angela, the woman he hopes will be his.

He has the words My Angel engraved around the inside of the gold band.

When they are re-united he wraps his arms around her waist and swings her around, her wide crinoline skirt flares out and she shrieks with laughter.

When he gives her the ring she cries but her eyes shine.

They are married the next week and for the next sixty years.

They have three children and they live on their own land and they grow their own food and keep their own animals. He learns and experiments and becomes an expert on geology from their small house. Angela learns with him, she writes, she knows as much as him, if not more. She is his fiercest critic and staunchest ally.

She makes sure all of their children never doubt that they can do anything they want to do.

Angela is sad when he dies but not heartbroken because she knows she will see him again.

She lives her last years with the same joy and energy she hasdevoted to her whole life so far but there is a tiny pull in her heart when she wishes to share something and turns to him only to find she is alone.

She lives on for 10 more years.

She leaves her ring to their granddaughter who is already 20 when Angela dies.

 

ooooooooo

 

Angela’s granddaughter is a Flapper as they come to be known. Angela had loved the new fashions, new politics, the endless possibilities of a new world. If she had one regret, it was that she could not stay to see more of this.

Angela’s granddaughter wears her grandmothers ring on her slender, crimson-nailed finger even though it is slightly too large. She dances to frantic music in New York nightclubs and smokes filter-less cigarettes in long ivory holders and drinks bathtub Gin disguised with fruit juice. She wears heavy eye make-up and beautiful, sparkling, short dresses drenched in Jet and she cuts her hair into a bob that swings like the beads on her dress. She rolls her stockings down below her knees. She kisses men, and women, in the grounds of fancy house parties and she drives too fast.

Her mother, Angela’s daughter, went to university and studied and trained to be taken seriously and became a scientist and married a doctor. She despairs because her daughter doesn’t take anything seriously.

Angela’s granddaughter has no idea what she wants to be, what she wants to do, what her plans are. A lot of her friends went off to the war and me back so how can she think of the future when no one knows what will be around the corner?

In the summer she drives through the countryside in an open topped red sports car with her best friend. They stop by a vast field of Oilseed; bright, almost luminous yellow flowers that go on forever. It is a field that begs you to run through it. So they do.

Angela’s granddaughter’s heart fills up with joy as she looks over at her friend, whose long red hair streams behind her as they run and stumble hand in hand through the waving garish ocean of sun. She swings her friend around by her arm until they colide together, laughing and gasping for breath and Angela’s granddaughter kisses her friend on the lips, a little terrified and a lot crazy and laughs out loud when her friend kisses her back.

Later when they walk back to the car, picking bits of leaves and twigs out of their hair and brushing dirt off their clothes, Angela’s granddaughter realises that her ring is missing. She cries because she loved her grandmother and she looks back at the field and knows there is no hope of finding it. Her friend kisses her again and tells her that Angela would not mind. She knows she will always remember her grandmother and her grandmother will always be with her, whether she has her ring or no. Angela’s granddaughter’s girlfriend is right.

The gold lies in the field under stars, sun, rain and wind for forty years before anyone touches it again. Sometimes the movements of the earth bury it but then the field is ploughed and it is on the surface again. It has spent an extraordinary amount of time lying on the earth and waiting.

 

ooooooooo

 

Thomas is an eight year old boy who lives in what had been the farm house.

The area that had been nothing but a thousand different shades of yellow when the ring first came to rest here is now a hive of industry and development. Progress is marching over the hills and fields and whole neighbourhoods are springing up. Collections of more or less identical houses full of young couples and families are spreading like roots from the once confined cities.

Thomas and his family are not as well off as the people in the new houses. Their house is old and run down and all of its land has been sold off over the years but they can’t imagine moving, they have lived in the house for a long time. 

Thomas loves plants, and animals, he spends hours watching all the life that teems in this one fairly small patch of land. There is nothing that Thomas’s family want more than to be able to send Thomas to college one day.

Thomas is running with his arms outstretched pretending he is flying over the flowers that come up to his waist in the last field that belongs to the house. The sun is setting, streaks of orange, gold and pink shoot overhead and off into the distance. The tall stalks of the plants cast long shadows over the ground and Thomas’s own shadow stretches away in front of him like some stringy scarecrow.

He hears someone call his name and looks around. On the other side of the field is his house, the whitewashed walls are glowing in the last of the sun and his mother stands on the steps in a floral dress and sandals. Her dark, tightly curled hair is tied back and she is looking out into the field, shading her eyes with her hand. She calls his name again and Thomas drops to the ground andhides amongst the stalks, not wanting to go in to bed yet, not wanting the day to be over.

His mother sighs and goes to put away the chickens who arescratching in the yard. She will come back in ten minutes, and ten minutes after that, this is a game they play every night in the summer.

While he waits, stretching out the last moments of the day as long as possible, Thomas pulls up stems of the flowers and idly plaits them together. Something is sparking by his feet, he reaches down and there is Angela’s ring, tangled amongst the roots of the plants. His eyes widen as he rubs at it with his thumbs, brushing off the dirt of forty years until it glows again. The diamond gleams in that somewhat dull way that older diamonds do, despite the dust still embedded in the setting. Thomas doesn’t know a whole lot about jewellery but he knows about buried treasure and that is definitely what this is. He stands up and runs toward his house, calling to his mother and waving the ring above his head.

 

ooooooooo 

 

Ten years later the ring is sold and Thomas goes to college. It is bought by a young woman called Ella who is going to design her own engagement ring. She is a student at Art College but she hopes one day to be a successful jewellery designer. Her fiancée is a student at the same college; he plans to be a designer too, of cars. Ella likes old things, her fiancée likes new things. She intends to combine the two by using the old diamond in a modern industrial-style setting of titanium. When she gets Angela’s ring home she prizes the stone out of its setting and puts aside the gold ring.

Her finished ring is beautiful and unusual and many people comment on it. A lot of people ask her if she will make something for them.

Many years later, when she has her own jewellery shop in the city, she is sorting through old pieces, practice runs and off-cuts and she comes across the thick gold band with My Angel inscribed on the inside. She smiles when she remembers the ring that became both the engagement ring she loves and the piece that brought her the success she has built her long career on.

She has a commission from a man who wants an engagement ring for his partner. He wants something simple, just a gold band. She likes this man, something about him makes her happy; his blue eyes feel like they see into her soul but what could be creepy just makes her feel safe.

When they are trying to decide on the style of the band she remembers the old ring and searches it out. She places it in front of him and asks what he thinks? Just the style obviously, ignore the setting where the stone once sat. The man’s eyes light up as he places a finger on the edge ofthe band and runs it along the soft heavy metal. He picks up the broken ring and his smile when he sees the inscription on this inside makes her want to grin back at him although she scarcely knows why. This is exactly the style he wants, he says and would it be possible to use this very gold to make his ring?

She agrees without a second’s hesitation. She can’t think of anyone she would rather have the other half of her ring.

Angela’s ring melts in the crucible, the first time it has been liquid in over 100 years.

Later, when Ella holds it up to the light after she has finished working the malleable yellow metal it is not Angela’s ring anymore, or Angela’s granddaughter’s, or Thomas’s or Ella’s. It is between owners now but it is destined to be someone’s soon.

The man comes in to collect the ring and he is delighted. He rubs his thumb gently over the curve of the ring and smiles as if he is looking at an old friend.

He reads the new inscription around the inside, ‘Hoc aurumcecidit vobis in cael. I. Sicut fecit.’ quietly to himself.

Ella asks if he minds telling her what it means and he looks awkward but explains, with a flush rising on his high cheekbones, that it says, ‘This gold fell for you from Heaven. As did I.’

She smiles, it's lovely, she says. She places the ring into a small black leather covered box with a satin lining and hands it to the man with the blue eyes.

 

ooooooooo

 

Castiel carries the ring in his pocket for several days. Sometimes he takes it out and looks at it and his heart thumps and his stomach flips and he feels like he can’t breathe. He puts it away again with a sigh.

He is sure that his nervousness must be noticeable to everyone. He feels awkward and like his face must be permanently hot.

Whenever they are alone he wonders if this is the right moment and then his mouth goes dry and he sits there, swallowing and looking like a fish.

He had never expected to feel like this. The realisation that this is what he wants, to spend the whole of his newly mortal existence with the man he fell for in every sense of the word, the decision to get the ring had all been so easy and made so much sense he had scarcely had to consider it at all.

Now suddenly it is not about his decisions any more, he has no say in where this goes now; it is all up to Dean. What if this is not what he wants? What if he says no?

Castiel is pretty much, at least 98%, sure that is not going to happen but that 2% is much louder than should statistically be possible.

They have been busy lately, seems like things that go bump in the night are ratcheting up their efforts in the lead-up to Christmas this year. Cas has more or less got the hang of hunting as a human, enough to be more help than hindrance anyway.

They are all finally back at the bunker after an exhausting couple of days chasing Wendigos through the snow and no one has the energy for anything much. Sam goes out to get Pizza and Dean and Cas crash on the sofa. Dean uses the last of his energy to turn on the TV and wrap his arm around Cas who lies back between his legs, resting his head against the hunter’s chest. Cas folds his arm over Dean’s and sighs happily as he feels Dean’s warm lips press a kiss to his cold hair.

Dean is flicking through the channels on the TV looking for the least awful option and Cas’s eyelids are getting heavier. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with a million images of the ring; of all the lives it has touched, all the happiness and luck and sadness and joy and adventure and love that it has seen and he jolts awake with his hand already on the box in his pocket and he knows it is time now.

Dean is still channel hopping, resting his chin on Cas’s head and occasionally absently dropping a kiss onto his messy dark hair. His arm is a steady weight across Cas’s chest and his fingers run back and forth along his forearm, feeling like electricity, making the short hairs stand on end. Cas’s fingers tighten on the box and he pulls it out of his pocket surreptitiously, hiding it under his hand.

“Dean,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?” Dean replies, he has decided on a terrible Christmas movie, he puts down the remote and wraps his other arm around Cas.

Cas doesn’t feel nervous any more, he feels completely at peace. “I want to stay like this forever,” he says.

“Mmm,” Dean agrees, kissing him again.

Cas twists around so he is facing Dean, straddling his lap. Dean smiles crookedly and moves his hands down to grip Cas’s hips, splaying his hands over strong thigh muscles. Cas opens his hand and Dean sees the small black box and his eyes go wide and his breathing falters. Cas opens the box and the gold band glows, brighter than something so small should.

“Dean,” Cas says again, “will you marry me?”

Dean says nothing for whole nanoseconds, which seem like a millennia – and Cas knows what a millennia really feels like. Dean bites his lip and blinks and his eyes go a little un-focused like he’s staring at something astounding that only he can see. A smile creeps over his lips and then it’s a grin and then a laugh and then he takes the ring box from Cas and grabs both sides of his face, leans in and kisses Cas until neither of them can breathe and it is starting to get dirtier and hotter and a bit more needy. Cas bites Dean’s lip, slides his tongue against Dean’s and moans at the sensation, pushing his hands into Dean’s hair. Then, struggling to control himself because he really needs to hear that word, Cas takes a deep shuddering breath and pulls away, resting their foreheads together.

“So…” He says, “is that…?”

“Yes.”


End file.
